Every Me and Every You
by Prophet of Devi
Summary: 6th year, NOT HBP compliant - Hermione and Snape are forced to spend time in eachothers company, and along the way uncover a secret big enough to tear down the fragile will of the war torn world around them. A darker, slow romance. Rated for adult themes.


Hello everyone! Welcome to my brand new story!

Now, there are a few things I need to mention before we continue. So please pay attention as they are rather important.

First of all I have planned this story out from start to finish, and It will have a sequel. Also, this will not be a short story. It is quite lengthy, so if thats not your style this story wont please you in the least.

Secondly, this story was actually named after a Placebo song, 'Every you and Every Me'. If your interested at all in the symbolism of lyrics in relation to story's I suggest you check it out. In addition, at the opening of every chapter after this I will be including lyrics that I feel embody the mood. They will never be more than a few lines, and are easy to skip right over if thats not your cup of tea.

All of my blabbering aside, you can look for any additional notes at the end of each chapter.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own a single thing of Harry Potter, Rowling owns that honor and I merely dream in her world.

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Prologue:

It was by no means the first time Hermione Granger had sat in the great hall on a chilly September evening, watching as Professor McGonagall lead in a group of petrified first years. Their eyes wide and enlightened as they beheld the magic lure and power that was Hogwarts. She could remember vividly when the same light had been reflected in her eyes.

'_So much has changed.'_

This was the first time, however, the youthful innocence of the moment was tainted with the dark blanket of fear that had settled over the wizarding world. The fight at the Ministry last year had forcefully opened the eyes of many, and news of Voldemorts return had swept over every witch and wizard like a plague.

Sighing in resignation, Hermione forced herself to accept that it would seem even Hogwarts was no longer immune to the outside threats that lapped at its protective iron gates.

Hermione also noted there were fewer students this year. The great hall was actually looking a little pathetic, missing about one forth of its normal population. The house tables were no longer crowded, the not so surprising exception being Slytherin. Their house filled every seat.

She remembered reading something in The Profit two days ago about the diminished student body. Apparently many of the parents had opted to send their children overseas where the threat of looming Death Eaters hardly existed. At least not yet anyway.

She could hardly blame them though, were they her children she might have done the same.

Picking half heartedly at her meal, Hermione noticed Ron across the table trying to engage Harry in conversation again. He was of course met with the same reaction they had been receiving all summer, Cold indifference and silence.

He hadn't spoken but a word hear and there to either of them after Sirius's death. Weeks of trying to bring him out of his shell had all been met with indifference or anger, the latter becoming more frequent.

Eventually she had accepted his silence and tried to give him space, but Ron had kept at it with the relentless Gryffindor vigor his whole family was known for.

She knew it was an exercise is futility, and suspected Ron did as well but was a lot less willing to admit it.

If Harry wanted to talk, it seemed he would do it on his own time.

Taking a stab at her chicken breast more for show than any real desire for food, she focused her attentions back on the head table. Dumbledore had just started his opening speech by introducing the new Defense Against the Dark Art's teacher, Professor Lynch.

The new Professor had stood briefly at being addressed, but quickly returned to his seat with obvious effort. He was a rather old and sickly looking man who seemed as if he might fall over any moment if someone breathed to hard in his general direction.

Still, she had to admit anything would be better then the nightmare of last year that had been Professor Umbridge. From the hushed comments being thrown around her, it seemed as if everyone else agreed.

"Bet Snape is in a riot over being denied the position again. Slimy git, I would rather insult a Hippoggriff to it's face then let Snape throw hexes at me any day." Ron's low voice rumbled to no one in particular. There were a few grunts of agreement but no one else commented.

Hermione chanced a glance over to the brooding Professor in question, and caught him glaring over the staff table and into the group of first years that were waiting anxiously to be sorted.

At least some things never seemed to change.

Intelligent and cunning the man may be, and of that she never had a doubt, but likable he was not. She often guessed that was the way he preferred it, and was careful not to think too deeply as to why that thought bothered her.

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Two weeks into the new term, and Hermione was already up to her elbows in homework. As it was her sixth year, they had been given more of a choice as to which classes to continue. It came as no surprise to anyone when she had chosen almost everything.

Still undecided as to what she wanted to do with her life after Hogwarts, she thought it better to take all subjects and be prepared. Not to mention the distraction of being busy always worked in her favor when her thoughts started to stray to less pleasant topics.

There was just something monotonous about reciting the Nordic Runes that seemed to help dispel the horrors of a day.

She was finishing up a Charms essay in the Gryffindor common room when a very irate looking Ron came storming through the portrait hole, face blotched with red patches and fists clenched by his side. Past experience had taught her that she merely had to give him a small glance before he would spiral into a shouting tirade, revealing his frustration.

It didn't take long before she was proven correct.

"This is totally unfair! He has gone loony I tell you, finally lost his marbles!" Ron shouted, throwing his hands up and pacing in a tight line. Silently thankful that it was late and everyone else had gone to bed, Hermione pushed aside her essay and settled into her comfortable chair for what was sure to be a long venting session.

"I won't stand for this Hermione! I wont! We have just as much of a right to know whats going on as anyone else. We were there too!" his pacing was getting quicker, and he occasionally made a wild gesture towards her but never stopped long enough to see her reaction.

He was silent for a moment, and Hermione took that as her hint.

"Know what Ron?" she said in a voice she normally reserved for children, but which over the years she had found worked wonders for Ron when he was upset.

"The Order, thats what!" he stopped pacing long enough to stare at her, as if he was outraged she didn't already know.

"Ron, watch it!" Hermione hushed, and he at least had the good grace to wait until she threw up a quickly muttered silencing charm before he began again.

As soon as the words had left his lips though, Hermione knew what this conversation was about. They had both spent all summer trying to convince Dumbledore that they belonged in the Order and wanted to know everything that was going on. Dumbledore, for all his vast wisdom and grandfatherly appearance, had denied them at every turn with casual shrugs and lemon drops.

"Why don't you sit down before you make me dizzy with all your pacing and start from the beginning. I take it Dumbledore turned you down again?" Hermione asked in an exasperated tone, motioning to the chair beside her.

With a large huff Ron sank down into the overstuffed recliner, the steam of his anger leaving him. His arms were flopped carelessly over the sides, with his chin resting on his chest. Despite his lanky height and having finally grown into his ears, he looked every bit the pouting eleven year old she had met in her first year.

The silence stretched out for a few minutes while Hermione waited with practiced patience for him to continue.

"He's meeting with Harry you know. Everyday he wonders off with Dumbledore to talk about who knows what. You've seen him, they act like its some secret club! I just don't get it, we matter too don't we? I mean, we have been with Harry every step of the way... why are they kicking us out? What did we ever do?"

It was the hurt puppy dog look he gave her now, one filled with honest confusion. She knew It had never been easy for Ron to live in Harry's infamous shadow, and that had been when he was by Harry's side and able to share the adventure. Now that he had separated himself, it was leaving Ron in the dust.

It broke her heart to see one of her best friends in such a helpless state.

"I'm sure he isn't meaning to keep us in the dark Ron. Dumbledore has a lot on his mind these days, and well Harry..." at that she trailed off, both of them knowing the sentence didn't need finishing.

There was that look again. Damn that look! She was never able to say no when he pulled that face. He was looking at her like she had all the worlds answers. Musing darkly to herself, Hermione had to admit that up until the reality check of last year, she had often thought the same.

But she knew better now. No longer was she the overconfident little girl with the waving hand and never ending string of questions. She still might be an over achiever to some degree, but she had grown up a lot over the summer.

They all had in their own ways, and thanks to the extra year gained from her use of the time turner, she was now 18 and a legal adult in the wizarding world. Not that anyone else knew that little fact, and she was careful to keep it that way.

"Look Ron, what if I tried talking to Professor Dumbledore again? Maybe if I explained to him that we-" her sentence was cut short as Ron jumped up and gave her a dazzling smile before muttering how she was the best and bouncing his way up the stairs to bed, content in the knowledge that his problem was already fixing itself.

Another sigh escaped Hermiones lips, her Charms essay long forgotten.

She spent the remainder of the evening in somber contemplation, silently watching the crackling fire of the common room.

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_'Stubborn, old, manipulative man!' _

These were Hermiones heated thoughts as she stormed her way past the gargoyle of Professor Dumbledore's office, ignoring the statue when it tried to close quick enough to snag her robes.

Hermione always considered herself to be a patient and logical person, but even she had her limits.

She had done exactly as she had promised Ron she would, seeking out the Headmaster directly after dinner the very next day. Hermione had politely and calmly presented her case in his heavily warded office, trying everything in her power to persuade him. She had even gone as far as pulling the 'Harry protection' card, pleading that they could help Harry accomplish his tasks during this rough time and keep an eye out for trouble.

For all her efforts he had simply looked at her as if she was a child throwing a tantrum, which she most certainly was not, and prodded her out of his office under the pretense that he had 'important matters' to attend to. Important matters, it seemed, no longer included the best friends of Harry Potter.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down, she forcefully got a rein on her temper before she gave into the temptation to let the outraged lioness in her to take control. Rushing back into the Headmasters office and demanding he reveal all of his secrets was a very fast and fool proof way of possibly getting herself stranded on a deserted island somewhere they would never find her. While an amusing and admittedly far fetched thought, she honestly wouldn't put it past the wizard.

No, she was long past the age of impulse even if it did rear its ugly Gryffindor head now and again. If Professor Dumbledore didn't want to let them into the circle of trust that was the Order, then she was sure he must have his reasons.

At least she told her self as much, for any other explanation was too upsetting to consider.

Deciding she needed a distraction to get her own emotions in check before confronting Ron with her defeat, and thus endure the rant that would surly follow, her feet began leading her on a very well worn path before the conscious decision was even made.

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The next few hours found Hermione in the comfort and familiarity of the Library, curled up under a beautiful stained glass window that was hidden towards the back where few students dared to tread.

Her Prefects badge allowed her the freedom this year of picking through all the musty and worn tombs of the restricted section, with no worries about being caught and punished for her curiosity. While her younger adventures at school had brought her into contact with a few of the books kept there, it by no means accounted for the several rows now open to her eager pursuits.

Hermione was flipping through a rather interesting chapter on the undocumented properties of blood magic with a book who's corners kept trying to prick her fingers. It wasn't until after the books fifth failed attempt that Hermione noticed she was squinting at the lines.

_'Why was it so dark?_'

Sitting up slowly and ignoring the loud pop her back made in protest from its hunched position, Hermione was a little surprised to see Madame Pince had already left the Library, leaving her to sit in relative darkness.

'_When had that happened_?' she wondered, embarrassed with herself that she had been to absorbed in her reading to notice.

Muttering a quick _Tempus* _spell, Hermione was even more shocked to see the faint golden glow of the numbers before her flash 11:43 pm. Before quickly dissolving away.

Jumping up while hurriedly gathering her strewn about notebooks and quills, Hermione berated herself for once again ruining her sleeping schedule by getting herself caught up in research.

One of these days she would have to learn some kind of moderation.

Looking back on everything, It was painfully obvious why she had never been very popular. What kind of person spent the entirety of a Friday night with their nose in a book?

She almost snorted when an image of herself as an elderly witch in a rocking chair popped into her mind, complete with fifty cats and of course a giant edition of _Transfiguration Digest_ propped in her lap.

If she survived this war, she made a mental note to never allow Crookshanks any siblings.

Once Hermione had exited the Library, her exhaustion of the day began to set in. A full class load meant very little time for rest, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

It was painfully obvious even then that her lack of sleep this evening was bound to way heavy on her tomorrow, even more so than normal. Though she had no class, Saturdays were her days to play catch up and make sure she had everything in order for the following week. Sleep was not a luxury she could afford.

It was with these thoughts, and eager to be back into her warm four poster bed, that Hermione found she had little patience for the constantly changing staircases this evening. They had tried putting her in the direction of the Ravenclaw tower four times now, a little prank she had noticed the stairs favored playing on her since the middle of her first year.

It had been the stairs that first spawned Hermiones little side project over the years to try and discover if the castle itself had some form of awareness. While she was never able to find any written documents pertaining to such a theory, she had more or less come to accept it as truth. An intelligent and logical person Hermione may be, but even she had to concede that when dealing with magic some things just _were_.

At the very least she believed the castle to be more than just a pile of well placed stones.

Not having any desire to spend another twenty minutes trying to navigate the playful stairs, she gave up the effort and backtracked to the entrance of the dungeons. Very few Gryffindors, if any, knew of the hidden staircases leading up to the towers. They were narrow and well concealed, and one had to tread rather deep into the dungeons to find them.

As very few Gryffindors ever had need or want to explore the dark Slytherin infested corridors, it was little wonder how they had remained a secret.

Hermione however had made good use of her knowledge gained from _Hogwarts, A History_ even if everyone else seemed to think it a waste of time.

She kept her wand out, dim light guiding her as she followed the well rehearsed map she had long ago committed to memory. She was focused on her destination and tried her best to ignore the little voice in the back of her mind that was telling her she was an idiot.

A muggle born witch walking freely into the breading ground of Death Eaters this late at night was not her most brilliant idea, and the farther down she got the more she started regretting her choice.

The silence was smothering. Where as the towers high atop the castle always had the pleasant sound of wind blowing through the halls, down here the air was stagnant and cold. The dampness clung to her breath and sent chills down her body.

She was just about to give in to her paranoia and turn around when she heard a noise. It was faint, but in the silence it seemed to echo off the walls and stop her heart.

All her fears came slamming back into her chest. What if she was found down here? What if Malfoy found her, so far from her protective den? She was confident in her abilities, but would he be alone?

'_No, dispel those thoughts. You are braver then this_.' she chided herself. How was it she could face Death Eaters in combat, but was afraid of a bump in the night?

'_Because you know very well what that bump could be_' again her little voice piped up and was promptly ignored.

Trying to regain her sense of determination, she started forward. Hermione refused to be scared away by her own imagination.

She made it four steps before the noise sounded again, much louder and closer this time. It sounded like boots shuffling across the floor, someone dragging something heavy.

Its in situations like these that her Gryffindor Bravery and overwhelming sense of duty are suppose to come through, right? They had never failed her before, so why did she suddenly feel as though they had?

Hermione quickly came to the conclusion to stop acting like a baby and take command of the situation. Opening her mouth to demand that whoever was lurking in front of her show themselves, she had barely formed the words on her tongue when the faint light from her wand caught movement in the dark.

All her remaining Gryffindor traits seemed to abandon her in a rush of cold fear and she froze.

There in front of her was a large figure, hunched over and shrouded in black. One pale thin hand was placed firmly on the wall, and slow ragged breaths were coming from underneath a mass of lanky dark hair.

She knew those robes. Those long fingers and the harsh presence of obedience and power that clung to him like a second skin. She went sneaking into the viper pit, and found the king serpent himself.

Severus Snape. The name alone had been known to send countless Hufflepuffs into fits of tears. Feared Potions Master, Reformed Death Eater, and trusted member of the Order. Yes, she knew his presence well.

She also knew, after less then five seconds of staring at the man that something was wrong. Hermione had a feeling that he hadn't even noticed her presence yet, and that was saying something for the man rumored by first years to have eyes in the back of his skull.

Something was very wrong indeed.

"Pro..Professor? Professor Snape?" Hermiones voice sounded forced and weak even to her own ears, but she kept it hushed for fear of waking up the Slytherins. She knew they were a long way from their dorm rooms, but one could never be to careful.

At the sound of her voice, his head snapped up and for a brief moment their eyes met. Even with the poor lighting her wand offered, she caught the split second of confusion and surprise before his cold and well worn mask slipped over his features. Had she not spent the last five years of her life studying and respecting the man, she might not have even noticed the change in his eyes.

So he really hadn't known she was there. Hermione fought hard to clamp down the rising sense of dread.

He stood tall then, making an obvious effort to assert himself in his authoritative role as Professor. It lasted only a moment though before his stance faltered and he tumbled over, falling to his knees with barley a sound escaping his lips.

Hermione's brain seemed to finally click on, propelling her forward even before his knees touched the ground. She knew it was a futile effort for someone as small as her to try and hold up his weight, but never the less she was determined to try. The instant her arms were around his chest he stiffened against the contact, but it was obvious he lacked the strength to stay upright on his own.

"Leave me!" it took Hermione a moment to realize he had spoken, for what had come out was not the normal deep velvet of his voice, but a cheap drawn out imitation that further propelled her fear.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Professor. Your obviously hurt, I need to get you help..." her voice shook slightly, but there was conviction in each word. It seemed her house qualities hadn't totally abandoned her after all.

He grunted something in response, and made a feeble attempt at pushing her away but his strength was fading by the second. She held on to him, trying desperately to return him to his feet. The effort proved useless.

There was one last moment of struggle, where his face lifted just enough to meet hers. She could barley see anything in the thick darkness that surrounded them, her wand lost in the volumes of his robes, but his eyes seemed to posses a light of their own. They reflected black pools of anger and distrust.

Hermione was momentarily taken back by the intensity with which they burned into her, damning her on the spot.

He attempted to voice one last protest before all will left him. His eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp in her arms.

Hermione did her best to quickly easy the dead weight of his body to the floor without smacking his head on the hard stone. Kneeling over his prone form, she brought the tip of her wand closer to inspect her Professors unconscious face.

Thats when she noticed the blood.

How had she missed that? It was everywhere. It covered his face, clotting around the corners of his mouth and cracked lips. His nose was obviously broken, making the normal hook look even more twisted than she remembered and purple rings were already half formed under his eyes. Parts of his hair were matted with a suspicious red stain, coming from somewhere above his hairline. What little part of his neck that wasn't covered by his high collared coat was also bruised and smeared with dark blotches of coagulated blood, and the heavy smell of copper found her nose.

Whatever part of Hermiones brain clicked on, she was eternally grateful for. The fear that had been clinging to her vanished and was replaced with the serious, calculating determination as her logical side took control.

Professor Snape was hurt and in need of help, and she would give it to him.

Hermione didn't bother calling his name again, she knew he wouldn't be able to hear her. Quickly moving her wand tip down the length of his body, she found what she was looking for instantly. His normally pristine and crisp robes were tainted with the faint crimson shimmer she knew meant he had to be bleeding through.

Whatever injuries he had sustained didn't stop at his neck, and she had to suppress a shudder at that knowledge.

She had to get him to Madame Pomfrey, immediately. She could levitate him there, but they were so deep in the dungeons she would never make it in time. Body levitation took extreme concentration and it wasn't something you could rush. If she dropped him, it very well could kill him.

Hermione watched his chest moving slowly, very shallow and ragged. She could see the small clouds formed by his breathing but they were becoming smaller and longer between by the second.

No, he needed help now.

Hermione relied on every last ounce of her impeccable control and calm to steady her nerves. It had helped see her and the boys through more dangerous situation then she cared to count, as she hoped it would aid her in one more.

Taking a deep breath, she started performing a series of complicated gestures with her wand and muttering several advanced healing charms she had taught herself over the summer.

After the battle in the Ministry last year, she promised herself she would never again be unprepared in a fight. If she lost it wouldn't be to lack of knowledge, and healing spells had thankfully fallen very high on her need-to-know list over the summer.

She had never had the opportunity to test them, and silently prayed amongst her mutters she had remembered the correct wand movements.

A few moments later, Hermione knew she had done everything in her power to help.

. With one last shuddered breath, she yelled out a final spell, no longer caring if she woke the whole castle.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

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_Tempus_* - Latin for 'Time'. I am unaware if this spell was ever used in the books, but I got the idea from the story 'Pet Project' by Caeria. All credit goes to her, in the very least for giving me the idea.

**AN**: Well there you have it. From here on out the story starts, this was just the start.

You know what I'm going to ask for, so please please leave me a review. Let me know if this is worth continuing. What can I change, what needs improvements, and what am I doing right?

The next chapter will be posted soon, and I assure you the more reviews I receive the faster my little figures will type.


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